


It Would've Been You (If My Wishes Came True)

by dollalpaca



Category: Canada's Drag Race RPF, RuPaul's Drag Race (US) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, Drunken Confessions, F/F, Fluff, Happy Ending, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Kid Fic, Song: the 1 (Taylor Swift), That doesn't exist. But I'm inventing it, The Author Regrets Nothing, mellow angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:20:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26923501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollalpaca/pseuds/dollalpaca
Summary: A voice calls her once she’s out in the hallway. It rings a bell in her head, one that had been silent for years. She turns around, and her breath hitches in her throat when she recognizes the woman standing a few feet away from her.She takes a doubtful step, then another, until she meets Kiara halfway, pulling her into an one-armed hug. She's taller than the last time she saw her—almost ten years ago—if that's even possible, and her expression hasn't changed, not really.Or, Kyne finds out she's Kiara's kid math teacher, and all her past feelings from high school come back.
Relationships: Kiara/Kyne (Drag Race)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 30





	It Would've Been You (If My Wishes Came True)

**Author's Note:**

> me? back with yet another kyara fic? more likely than you think. it all started when i got an anon on my blog about a [kyara kid fic](https://dollalpaca.tumblr.com/post/630920074114564096/hello-maam-as-youre-the-ceo-of-kyara-i-thought) and it wouldn't leave my mind, so i got permission from the anon and wrote it. most of this was written in the middle of the night OR when i was sleep deprived. no in between. but i think it came out pretty good. a million thanks to frey for beta-ing this madness, and to the lovely anon for letting me write this. you're really neat, i hope you're well.
> 
> as seen in the tags, the title comes from the taylor swift song "the 1" (that turned into white noise for me at this point, because i looped it all the time while i was writing. god bless taylor swift.)

“Do you have any idea who's the new English teacher in first grade?” Kyne asks, chewing on a pen, staring at the papers. The papers, covered in what she _supposes_ are numbers, are staring right back at her. She looks at Priyanka, pen still in her mouth, and she couldn't say Priyanka is having any luck grading her own papers either.

“Not really, ask Lemon,” she replies, brows furrowed as she carefully marks a whole sentence with a red marker, adding a sad face at the end of it. It's soon followed by encouraging words, such as “ _you can do it!_ ” or “ _everyone makes mistakes, you got it!_ ". “Lemon knows everyone, and everyone knows Lemon. She' probably got her claws on the new teacher already.”

Though it's true that Lena— known as Lemon by the staff—knows every teacher and their grandma, Kyne’s still bitter that she told her students that she never really liked maths — her students that soak up everything adults say and repeat it. So going to her isn't really an option, not for _now_ at least, or until she stops being bitter. Which, admittedly, can last for a long time.

“Whoever the new teacher is, I _really_ hope they double the kids' calligraphy homework. I don't even know if this is a five or a six.” She squints, bringing the sheet closer, deciding that it's a five. Maybe. Who knows for sure? She'll leave it at that for now. 

“I’m _glad_ I didn't get the first graders this year, not that the kids in third grade have a much better calligraphy, but it's somewhat more readable,” Priyanka comments, but by her tone Kyne can tell she doesn't even believe herself.

Either way, she chugs down the last drops of her already cold coffee, places her chin in her palm, and throws herself into grading the last papers on her pile.

Being an elementary school teacher wasn't exactly what Kyne had envisioned herself doing, more so because of her lack of patience back in her teenage years, rolling her eyes and groaning when someone asked her to do their math homework or tutor them for something. But her parents ended up convincing her when the time started to run out and she had to sign up for something to not lose a year. 

And so, the worry in the pit of her stomach grew with each day, anxiety creeping at the thought of not being a good teacher, or not having the patience it requires to teach children, or even worse—that it’d turn out she doesn’t actually like children. But then, she realized kids weren't all _that_ bad; she was only a moody teenager that couldn't stand stupid questions. Kids never have stupid questions, just misguided ones.

Besides, if she taught them to love math early in their lives, maybe she’d spare a future Kyne the annoyance when a classmate asked her about the answer for problem six about infinity. 

Five years passed and there she was - fighting to keep her eyes open before her last classes for the day, trying to grade the kids' homework. Admittedly, Priyanka contributes to Kyne managing to stay awake; her best friend can hardly keep her mouth shut while she grades, mouthing something every so often, making sounds of disapproval or joy. She's never quiet, and it's a good contrast for her, rarely talking while she grades, mouth busy chewing pens instead. 

“I have a parent-teacher meeting this Friday,” Priyanka says between sips of water. 

“Oh, yeah?” Kyne’s barely listening, trying to decipher what on Earth did Jason try to write.

“Yeah,” Priyanka muses quietly, tapping her fingers against the table. “Yeah. I gotta talk with the parents about why their kids don’t know how to find Canada on the map,” she jokes with a dry laugh, pulling and pinching her cheeks.

Kyne laughs shortly, finally turning to see Priyanka. She looks exhausted already, and she's hoping to not have to not have to deal with those white mothers that think their kids can do no bad. 

“I have a meeting, too,” she replies. “I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you, and you keep your fingers crossed for me,” she proposes, and Priyanka agrees right away with a sigh. The worst part about being a teacher isn't the kids, the kids are great—sometimes, most of the time, it depends—but dealing with the parents is the one thing none of them wants to do. They're good until they aren't, and really, they don't get paid enough to be yelled at every other week by an angry Becky at the parent-teacher reunions.

“If I manage to make it through a meeting without being shouted at, I'm getting plastered during the weekend,” Priyanka promises, more to herself than anyone else, but Kyne still pokes her arm, cocking a brow, expectant. “-and I'm inviting you, obviously,” she adds, and Kyne smiles, satisfied.

They go back to grading, and teachers enter and leave the room, the noise increasing and ceasing progressively. It's chaotic. It's annoying. It's exhausting. Kyne wouldn't have it any other way.

***

This isn’t Kyne’s first year teaching first grade, but either way she’s surprised when her students seem fuller with energy and curiosity than her previous group. It _is_ hard for them to keep their focus for more than five minutes, so she has to come up with good ideas on how to get the kids to concentrate—this means she has to go out of her way to buy all sorts of colorful chalk and markers, and make fun decorations with lots of colors and details for them to be interested in the topic. Priyanka always says she's the only maths teacher she knows that works this hard for the kids, and Kyne's not sure if that's a compliment or not, but she'll take it.

She walks around their shared desks, making sure they're all doing their work, and goes to take a seat behind her own desk to go over the next part of the lesson. 

Barely a minute passes when Kyne hears tiny footsteps approaching her desk, until there's a nudge on her arm.

“Miss Kyne.” She hears Matt's voice and she casts her eyes down to him, a polite, sweet _yes?_ as a reply, prompting him to go on. “I don't understand this part,” he says, pointing at the exercise, and Kyne quickly thinks of another way to explain fractions to a six year old. 

Matt is one of the sweetest children she's had the pleasure of teaching, always kind and smiling, though quiet most of the time—at least in comparison to the rest of the kids, anyway. And he has something, something in the way he talks and the way he smiles, that reminds Kyne of someone. Though she can't quite put a finger on who. 

It's probably nothing. She’s met a lot of people during her life, it's not realistic that she’ll remember all of them with exactitude. So she always brushes it off as nothing. 

But it _is_ something, it's just so that the years go by and Kyne's memory falters, faces becoming blurrier with each day that passes; sometimes the faces from her past become dust that slowly slips from her hands, despite how tight she closes her fists. 

The sensation that Matt reminds her of someone fades away too, like it always does, and Kyne goes on with her day like it's just another dull one. 

***

Friday comes around and Kyne plasters her best customer service smile on as she greets the parents. This is the first meeting of the year and she wants to make a good impression. As good as it can be, anyway. 

The meeting starts, and she introduces herself as the maths teacher, goes over the usual pleasantries and protocols, then she proceeds to ask if any of the kids have had problems adjusting to the homework or doing it, if there’s something they notice it’s troubling them. Most shake their heads, some saying that they’ve only thrown tantrums because they don’t understand why they _must_ do it instead of playing with their toys.

She smiles, genuinely this time, and wets her lips. Well, this is better than she had expected, she thinks. She’s about to go on with the meeting when one mother pipes up, the annoyance in her tone palpable, and Kyne has to refrain herself from rolling her eyes. There we fucking go, it was good while it lasted.

Kyne laces her fingers, counts to ten and discreetly pinches the inside of her palm when the woman doesn’t seem to want to finish talking any time soon.

“Well, _I_ didn’t know Kaleigh does ballet,” Kyne says, taking advantage of the split second she took to breathe. “It’s an activity outside of school, which doesn’t concern me. It’s still the beginning of the year, I’m sure Kaleigh can adapt just fine to doing homework after ballet hours, or before, whatever you deem best.” She shrugs, the customer service smile back on her face. She sees the mother scrambling to find something to say, to persuade Kyne in giving less homework—but, if she even looked at her daughter’s school book, she’d know Kyne barely assigns them a pair of exercises they can resolve within twenty minutes.

She goes on, and the customer service smile is replaced by a smug one when she sees the childish frown on Kaleigh’s mom’s face, arms folded as she leans back in the chair. The meeting ends, and Kyne considers it a victory that no one went off. She wonders if Priyanka had the same luck - she really could use some drinks over the weekend. 

Kyne bids everyone goodbye, her cheeks hurting from the smile. She finally loosens up her face when she’s sure none of them are paying her attention, she gathers her things and leaves.

“Kyne?” A voice calls her once she’s out in the hallway. It rings a bell in her head, one that had been silent for years. 

She turns around, and her breath hitches in her throat when she recognizes the woman standing a few feet away from her.

“Kiara?” She asks tentatively, not really believing she is standing right before her in all her glory. She takes a doubtful step, then another, until she meets Kiara halfway, pulling her into an one-armed hug. She's taller than the last time she saw her—almost ten years ago—if that's even possible, and her expression hasn't changed, not really. Her smile and the crinkles around her eyes are the same, for all she can remember. “It’s- It's really good to see you! What are you doing here?”

Kiara pulls away, staring at her with the shiny smile that made her insides twist when they were teens. It still does, if she were to be honest, but she'll never admit it.

“I don't think you saw me, I came late and sneaked to the back of the room without saying anything,” she begins, but Kyne can't quite connect the dots yet, despite them being too obvious. “I didn't say anything during the meeting, though, I guess I'm still a little surprised that you're Matt's teacher.”

Kyne squints, not sure if she heard that right. The smile freezes on her face, until she realizes. _Now, that's why Matt seemed familiar._

“You’re Matt’s mother?” She inquires, baffled. Kiara nods, giggling bashfully. “That… Makes a lot of sense. He's identical to you,” Kyne muses quietly, though it's true. She should’ve seen it sooner, but Matt is an exact copy of Kiara; he even has her eyes full of wonder and the crinkle around them when he smiles.

She feels old, even though she’s only twenty seven; she supposes it’s because the time flies, nine years went by in the blink of an eye, and Kiara has already formed a family of her own. Kyne doesn’t know why it unsettles her, but it does, her chest tightening just enough to bother her.

“Aww, so I’ve been told. My parents sometimes say I cloned myself when I had him,” she jokes, laughing softly, and Kyne giggles out of compromise. Her eyes dart towards her ring finger out of curiosity, and she tries to not seem surprised when she doesn’t see a ring, not even a tan line around it. “You know, I never thought you’d end up teaching in elementary school. I guess I always saw you being some kind of business woman,” Kiara comments, brows furrowed as she tilts her head, and Kyne can see the question in her eyes—it’s something she prided herself in, back in high school; she knew how to read Kiara to a degree no one else could.

Kyne doesn’t question why she still has that ability after all this time, and just explains herself unprompted, “My parents convinced me to give it a try while I figured out what I really wanted to do, and I just ended up liking the kids too much to change careers.” She shrugs, because her story isn’t really all that interesting. She looks at Kiara, her perfectly tailored suit, and smiles a little. “Do I have to suppose _you_ ended up being the business woman instead?”

Kiara snorts, biting her lower lip. Kyne tries to not let her eyes drift to it.

“Sort of? It’s nothing that much interesting, or, well, it depends on the day; I’m an editor for the city’s newspaper. Sometimes we have interesting days, and others I try to not fall asleep while I read my colleagues’ work.” She shrugs, not making much of it, but by her little smile—the one she used to put on when she finally understood a chemistry problem after so many attempts—Kyne can tell she’s pretty proud of it. 

And she would love to hear all about Kiara's new life and catch up on all the time they missed, but Priyanka appears in the hallway, jumping happily with a toothy grin. Kyne can quickly tell her meeting was a success too, and she smiles at the prospect of getting drunk together this weekend.

“Hey, Kyne! You'll never guess,” Priyanka exclaims when she sees her, stopping in her tracks when she notices Kiara, who turns around to see her, vaguely amused by her enthusiasm. “Oh, you're still busy, I see. I'll catch up with you at the entrance,” she quickly says, but Kyne dismisses it with a wave of her hand.

“No, it's fine, this is Kiara, a friend from high school,” she replies, her voice quivering as she says ‘friend.’ It’s not like they weren't friends, they were great ones; it's just that to this day she regrets they were just _that_. 

But Kiara doesn't have to know.

Priyanka and Kiara shake hands, politely introducing each other. Kiara turns to Kyne afterwards, looking at her with a tinge of hope. 

“I should get going, but it'd be nice if we caught up one day,” she says softly, though it's more of a question. Kyne quickly catches on, saying she'd love to. Kiara smiles. “Gimme your phone.”

Kiara puts her number in her phone, saving herself as ‘Kiki’ followed by a red heart emoji. It makes her heart tug a little—or maybe it skipped, beating like it used to beat when her crush on Kiara was at its peak. It's confusing, but she tries not to think too much about it. 

“I’ll see you ‘round,” Kyne promises, grinning as she places her phone back in her pocket. Kiara bids her goodbye, pulling her into a last quick hug before heading out. 

Kyne just stares glued to her spot, watching her leave, her dark curls bouncing with every step she takes, and Priyanka says nothing until Kiara is out of sight.

“She’s not just a friend, is she?” Priyanka asks when Kyne remains silent for a second too long.

She finally pulls her gaze to meet Priyanka’s, and it bothers her to a degree - the smugness in her expression.

“It’s complicated,” is all she replies. But it isn't, not really; she spent most of high school crushing on Kiara, her straight best friend—like every stereotypical lesbian did. Sometimes she entertained the idea of confessing her feelings on the day of their graduation, figuring that the odds of seeing her again were more than little, since she was going back to Quebec for college and Kyne would stay put in Ontario. She never told her. And though she had wallowed in her misery and cowardy for the first months, she had gotten over it, and, as the years went by, the memory of Kiara became blurry around the edges, the sound of her voice vanishing from her mind.

But now it turns out that it never really vanished, her memories were just dormant; the moment she heard Kiara's voice, she knew it was her. And just like that, everything came back to her. Every little moment they shared flashed before her eyes.

And it stings a little that now she has a child, living a happy life with someone that’s not her. That could’ve been Kyne, if she had done things differently.

“Are we getting drunk this weekend, yes or no?” Priyanka asks to break the silence, suffocated in the scent of nostalgia.

Kyne nods, expressionless. “ _Please._ ”

Priyanka doesn’t ask any more questions and they just walk in silence. 

***

Kyne’s weekend can be summed up as grading and drinking with her friends on Saturday night—which turned into an interrogation the moment Priyanka started getting tipsy, asking about the mysterious woman at the parent-teacher that had thrown Kyne off the loop. Kyne barely uttered a word about Kiara, even though she was dying to. She would love to just let it die down again. It could also be summed up as having a hangover and watching her favourite shows all over again, ignoring her responsibilities for just the day.

And, as contradicting as it seems, she also spends her time typing and re-typing a text to Kiara, but she never presses send. It’s complicated. Of course she wants to reconnect with her friend, to know what she’s been up to and get to know the new her. But there’s a part of her that knows it’ll only make her think of the _what ifs_ and the _woulds_ —of what could’ve been if she had just kissed Kiara on prom night when they sneaked out to smoke outside the gym.

It’s pathetic. She’s pathetic. And she needs a cigarette, soon. But it’s still school hours and she can’t go around smelling like nicotine.

It’s only Tuesday, but she perches herself against the window in the teachers room, grips the cup of tea, giving it a tentative sip, and waits until her mind is less fuzzy, gazing out of the window.

“Bad day so far?” Tynomi asks, all but collapsing onto the chair. Kyne snorts - if only she knew.

“You bet,” she answers simply, taking another sip that burns her tongue.

It’s not a bad day for her standards, not really; the kids have been easy to work with, for the most part, and miraculously, they all did their homework—if anything, it’s a win for her. But when her eyes roam around the room as she explains, making sure everyone is paying attention, Matt’s little hazel eyes full of curiosity make her stomach churn, and not in a good way. 

_He really is Kiara’s exact copy,_ she thinks every time she sees him. It even goes beyond the looks; every little gesture, reaction, how he scrunches up his nose when he doesn’t understand something—Kyne can’t believe she went all this time without realizing. But she wishes she’d been blind for a little longer, maybe until he moved grades and she wasn’t teaching him anymore, so she didn’t have to bear with all the questions and scenarios swirling in her mind.

She takes another sip, wanting more than anything to light up a cigarette.

Luckily, her last class of the day isn’t Matt’s. It’s with the fourth graders, and though they usually cause her lots of headaches, this time she can’t be bothered with their antics, so she just dictates her class and sits still in her desk, waiting for them to hand in their homework before leaving.

Another day comes to an end, and Kyne sluggishly drags herself towards the entrance, looking around for Kiara’s bouncy dark curls—if it’s because she wants to see her again or avoid her, she’s not sure. Maybe a mix of both. 

She’s making her way towards the parking lot, rummaging for her car keys in her bag, when she feels a tug in her blazer, followed by the voice she most definitely didn’t want to hear.

“Kyne! Hey,” Kiara says, smiling at her, hand in hand with Matt. The kid looks back and forth between his mom and his teacher, probably wondering if he’s in trouble for something.

“Kiki, hi.” The nickname slips out before she can fight it, but oh well. “How was your weekend?” She asks finally, a little too awkward. Kiara shifts her weight from one foot to another, the smile faltering for a second.

“Well, it was a pretty dull weekend at the office, not much to tell, honestly.” She shrugs, tilting her head slightly. “I was waiting for your message, too.”

Kyne gulps. _Shit._

“Oh! Yeah, uh, I was pretty busy this weekend, I totally forgot,” Kyne lies easily, or she thinks so; Kiara always could tell when she bullshited her. She wonders if she still can do that. Kyne licks her lips, knowing she’ll regret what she’s about to say. “We can go for lunch one of these days, I don’t have classes to teach on Thursdays,” she proposes, her voice sounding hopeful, though deep inside her, she wants Kiara to say no.

Instead, she says yes.

“I don’t have anything lined up for Thursday, I don’t think,” she says with a toothy grin - the kind that made Kyne sigh when she wasn’t looking. Damn it. “Text me, this time I say it for real,” Kiara warns with a devilish smile, poking her arm.

Matt is just looking without saying anything, busy sucking on a lollipop, but the curiosity in his eyes is undeniable. Kyne bites the inside of her cheek.

“Sure, I’ll text you as soon as I get home,” she promises, biding her and Matt goodbye shortly after that. Kiara pulls her into yet another one arm hug—Kyne doesn’t miss the way she used to wrap her arms around her and hold her tight, definitely not—and she could swear she mutters something in French.

Over the noise, she can distinguish Matt’s voice asking how she knows his teacher, but she’s out of earshot to listen to Kiara’s reply.

***

Thursday comes faster than Kyne would’ve wanted, the anticipation bubbling up in her stomach as she makes her way to the restaurant Kiara had proposed they go to. It’s just around the corner of the building where Kiara works at; it’s small, with a cozy atmosphere thanks to all of the fairy lights scattered around every corner, potted plants carefully placed on each window and lots of paintings hanging from the walls.

Kiara is already there when she arrives, sitting at the back of the place, eyes glued to her phone as she’s typing something, a bottle of wine already placed on the table. And for a moment, Kyne thinks that she still can turn around and leave, evade her and the newfound feelings for a little longer—but that would be making the same mistakes she already did nine years ago, and if she’s going to make mistakes this time around, she’s going to make new ones.

So she approaches the table, trying to not let her trembling legs make her trip, but that proves difficult when Kiara lifts her gaze from her phone, grinning from ear to ear when they make eye contact.

And then, she pulls her into a tight hug once she’s close enough, her fruity perfume filling Kyne’s nostrils. God damn it, can her heart stop beating like it wants to come out of her chest?

A waiter approaches them the moment they get settled, and Kyne just orders the first thing she sees on the menu. Kiara barely gives it a glance, seemingly quite familiar with the menu.

“This is one of my favorite places in the whole city,” Kiara comments, full of enthusiasm as she pours Kyne wine. “I discovered it shortly after I moved back, like, four years ago already.” She fidgets with the napkin, chewing on her lower lip for a brief second. “Four years. Time flies, huh?” 

Kyne laughs curtly, time _does_ fly. Just yesterday they were eighteen, a whole life ahead of them, and they daydreamed about going to the same college, and sharing a dorm, and going to college parties together, and graduating together, and moving in together, and living in freedom, and then—

—then Kiara decided to change her major, go back to Quebec, and move in with a pair of cousins living near the college she wanted to attend. And Kyne regretted not being better at French for an entire year, as her communication with Kiara became rarer and far between, until one day she stopped replying, and Kyne stopped insisting.

Some days she wonders what would’ve happened if she insisted a little more. 

“It does, doesn’t it? I swear just yesterday we were climbing down the tree next to your window, trying not to wake up the whole neighborhood.” They laugh at the same time, and Kiara leans forward, resting her chin in her palm, looking at Kyne with her shiny eyes full of nostalgia and all Kyne can do is bite back a sigh.

“Funnily enough, now I’m the one chasing after a child, making sure he doesn’t get injured when he climbs up and down the trees for hours,” Kiara says, more to herself than to Kyne, drawing circles on the table with her index finger. She evades her gaze, and Kyne is sure it has to do with the fact that, if she were to look directly at her, she’ll see the millions of questions regarding Matt floating in her mind.

It’s funny. Kiara always said she’d never have children before she was forty, yet here she is. Kyne hasn’t stopped wondering what changed.

Almost as if she could read her mind—and maybe she can—Kiara continues with a heavy sigh, that’s more theatrical than anything. “Fine, I’ll tell you, just stop looking at me like that.” She feigns annoyance, but the sides of her mouth are curling up in a smile.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kyne replies with a laugh, folding her arms. Kiara reaches across the table to pinch her arm with a shit-eating grin.

“Nine years might’ve passed, but you’re still the same, Kyky,” she says, sticking her tongue out. Kyne gasps, faux offended, and rolls her eyes, hoping and praying she isn’t blushing. “And I know you wanna know about Matt, and really, I don’t mind the questions—from you, at least. So shoot your shot.” She leans back in her seat, and if Kyne wasn’t blushing before, she probably is now, but out of embarrassment.

“It’s just- I knew he reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t figure out who. And now that it turns out he’s yours, I don’t know, it feels weird.” She doesn’t say that when they were younger, she daydreamed about a future with her, and sometimes, when she has one glass of wine more than she should, she still thinks about what could’ve been, because who has the gut to say something like that? Instead, she just leans forward, placing her chin on her laced fingers. “I wanna know the full story. How did you meet his dad?” For all Kyne cares, she doesn’t want to know, but she asks out of morbid curiosity.

Perhaps, if she hears all about Kiara’s happy, straight life, that’ll be enough for her to get over it and move on.

But instead, Kiara rolls her eyes, her whole demeanor changing in a split second.

“Ah, yeah. So, I knew I liked girls, but I wasn’t so sure about men-”

“Hold the fuck on,” Kyne interrupts her, eyes widening as her heart starts beating at a thousand miles per hour. “You like women? For real?” She blinks repeatedly, the knowledge that Kiara is queer too not fully sinking in just yet. _She likes girls,_ and eighteen year old Kyne should’ve been braver.

Kiara just cocks a brow, gazing at Kyne with an amused look. “That’s not the point,” she says simply, and Kyne groans before she can avoid it. Of course it’s the point, but she prefers not to push. “The point is, I knew I liked girls, even if I only ever had a crush on one girl before, but I wasn’t so sure about men. So, in my search for identity, I ended up getting my degree with one hand, holding a baby with the other,” she jokes, taking a sip from her drink.

Kyne’s throat is suddenly dry. That’s a lot of information to process. 

“I guess my gay-dar failed me back in high school,” she says, furrowing her brow. But it’s not like she never thought there was the faintest possibility that Kiara liked girls when they were teenagers—it’s more so that she preferred to ignore it.

Looking back at all the lingering gazes, hand holding as they aimlessly walked around the city, of the awkwardness hanging around the air when Kiara did her make-up for parties and she scooted herself closer and closer, until there was no space between them, noses practically touching as Kiara made sure her eyeliner came out correctly.

Yeah, she probably should’ve seen the signs.

Kiara shrugs, laughing shortly. “You should probably get it checked, ‘cause not even I know how I didn’t realize sooner,” she says with a cheeky grin, and Kyne instinctively leans over to pinch her, but Kiara deflects her by grabbing her hand, easily taking it between hers in a swift movement. It’s such a casual thing, but it still makes Kyne’s heart speed up.

“ _Either way_ ,” Kiara goes on after a moment, “to make a very long story short, I definitely don’t like men, but Matt’s dad is fine, I guess. I actually prefer his current girlfriend more than him. He has him over on the weekends and he always tells me about the funny things he does with Sheila,” she comments, fidgeting with Kyne’s hand to avoid her gaze. Kyne’s about to make a comment about stealing his girlfriend when Kiara speaks again. “Your nail polish, it’s chipping.”

Kyne cocks a brow, wondering what it has to do with the topic at hand, but she knows Kiara has never been particularly fond of showing vulnerability, and her motherhood is, apparently, something she finds difficult to explain—at least so she supposes, if the way she avoids eye contact and seems rather nervous is anything to go by.

“Oh, yeah, I applied it on Monday, I think.” Kyne just follows the flow, frowning slightly as she twitches her fingers.

“I have a gold nail polish that would look really nice on you,” Kiara comments absent-mindedly, and Kyne cocks an amused brow.

“Wanna have a sleepover and do our nails?” She proposes, like they’re still in high school and entertaining themselves during a boring class by planning their weekend.

But Kiara actually looks at Kyne with excitement in her eyes, a toothy grin breaking into her face faster than she would’ve thought.

“Yes! I’d love to,” she’s quick to reply, causing Kyne’s cheeks to heat up, stammering as she says it was just a joke. “Ah, but it would be fun, wouldn’t it? Y’know, for old times sake—and we wouldn’t have to sneak around stealing our parents’ alcohol.” Kiara gives Kyne’s hand a squeeze, a wicked grin on her face.

And under normal circumstances, Kyne would just turn her down and move on to another topic, because she can’t allow her past feelings to rise up—not more than they’ve already had, anyway.

But she decides that, what the hell, why not? She hasn’t seen her friend in a decade, and, clearly, they won’t catch up with everything over lunch. So she takes a big swig of wine and replies before she chickens out.

“Yeah, sure, does Saturday work for you?”

***

Kiara lives in a nice apartment complex just near enough of her old house, and Kyne tries not to look out the window when she drives by the familiar yard on her way to Kiara's place just as the sun is setting, and she remembers how they used to sit at her porch and talk aimlessly for hours.

They’d been texting back and forth more than Kyne would’ve thought—she’d be on break between classes, ignoring Lemon’s high pitched voice as she talked about things she had no interest in whatsoever, and a message from Kiara would pop up just complaining about her co-workers, prompting her to do the same, if she felt like it. _I can’t be the only one that wants to tell a white blonde bitch to shut up,_ one of her messages said, and Kyne thought she had some sort of telepathy.

It’s scary how easy it’s to get used to having Kiara in her life again. Like all the time they went without seeing each other never existed, and it had been just a day instead, a couple of hours maybe. In a way, everything is the same, but so different at the same time. She’s not sure if that makes sense. Probably it doesn’t.

Before Kyne notices, she’s knocking on Kiara’s door, tapping the floor with her left foot, rather out of anxiety than impatience. She has a backpack with spare clothes, a toothbrush, and a bottle of Tequila neatly packed. Like in the good ol’ times.

The door flies open, and Kiara pulls her into yet another hug. This time, Kyne eases herself into her embrace, biting back a sigh. She’d missed Kiara’s hugs, always warm and tight, communicating everything needed to be said when words weren’t enough.

“You have a nice apartment,” she compliments, looking around. It’s decently big for just her and Matt, the walls painted a boring beige colour that’s mostly covered by photo frames, potted plants, and drawings clearly made by Matt. “And an artistic kid, apparently,” Kyne muses quietly, gazing at the different drawings scattered around the walls.

Kiara turns to look at her once she closes the door, a proud smile blooming on her face. “Oh, yeah, he likes to draw a lot. I think I’ve bought him more crayons and pencils in just a year than I had during all my life,” she comments with a giggle, and Kyne smiles. 

“Imagine if I was there to be his godmother—‘cause we both know I would’ve been—I would’ve contributed to spoiling him rotten with art supplies.” She chuckles, somewhat bitterly, and though Kiara returns the smile, it doesn’t reach her eyes.

Kiara mutters something she can’t quite catch, and somehow, Kyne knows she’s probably said something she shouldn’t have. So she reaches into her backpack and pulls out the bottle of Tequila.

“Got any lemons?” She asks with a shit-eating grin, and Kiara chuckles, saying she thinks she has some in the kitchen.

Obviously, though they’re still in their twenties they don't have the livers they used to have in college, so they take it easy with the alcohol, talking about mundane things as they sit by the windows of Kiara’s apartment, gazing at the lively streets and how the night starts to settle in the city.

And the way they collapse on the couch, hours later, with take away boxes, as they yell at reality TV shows, feels so familiar, that time suddenly seems to not exist.

They talk about anything and everything—of their college journeys, the crazy things they've done, the tumbles and turns they went through until they landed their current jobs. Of love and dating, even though that conversation is rather short.

Kiara only ever tried to date one girl, she says, back during sophomore year of college, but they clearly had different ideals and personalities, and all in all, Kiara wasn't as interested as the other girl was. They settled for friends, but over the years they stopped caring for each other—it wasn't such a huge loss, though, as Kiara barely remembers her name correctly. Then, she talks about the men, and that part is short, too; she had slept with only one other man before Matt's dad. Kiara doesn't remember his name either, but she knows it was something with a C.

And Kyne tells her of the messy hook-ups, the times she thought that _maybe_ she was catching feelings, but in reality, she just clung onto them hoping for some kind of spark, the loneliness sometimes getting the best out of her. She didn't think it was fair that all of her friends were in love, rubbing it in her face while she watched, thinking about the only girl she ever truly liked, and-

She stops mid-sentence, knowing that if she doesn't, she'll regret it. Kiara looks at her with curiosity, but she's never been one to pry, so she doesn't ask about her mysterious crush.

_If only she knew._

The night goes on between shots of Tequila, bad TV shows, and embarrassing stories of frat parties. 

Kyne's not sure how many hours have passed—a movie is playing in the background, but they haven’t been paying attention for a long while. They’re drunk already, laughing at anything, stumbling when they walk and slurring ever so slightly, and the world might be blurry around the edges, but as long as they’re sitting side by side, without an inch of space between them, they’re fine.

They’re talking about that time at a house party where one of Kiara’s heels got stuck in mud while they danced in the backyard, and Kyne, trying to help her, only made it worse, and the two ended up falling into the mud. Half the party stared at them while they laughed at each other, probably way drunker than now.

“Oh, Jesus, I was a mess in high school,” Kiara comments between laughs, leaning on Kyne’s side, nestling her head against her shoulder, and maybe it’s the alcohol, or all the time they’ve wasted, but before can stop to think about it, she blurts out:

“You were, but I liked you that way,” she says, without an ounce of doubt or second guessing, much to her surprise. Her heart stammers with anticipation when she hears Kiara giggle, lifting her gaze to meet hers, but the hollowness from before is back in her eyes.

“That’s really sweet, Kyky, I really liked you too,” she replies, resting her head against her shoulder again, and Kyne’s heart stops for a second when she realizes she didn’t understand. 

Kyne bites her lip, wondering if she should leave it at that or try to explain to Kiara how head over heels she used to be—and still is—for her. For a brief second, she thinks that it’s too early, that they just regained their contact and she doesn’t want to lose her friend again.

_Fuck it._ She’s waited long enough.

“That’s now what I meant,” Kyne says softly, trying to not let the courage abandon her right then and there. Kiara looks up at her again, brows knitted in a confused frown. Kyne meets her gaze, and somehow, she knows words aren’t necessary, that Kiara _understands_. 

Her breath becomes ragged, slowly straightening her position, her eyes never leaving Kyne's. For a second she's fully convinced she's going to get rejected, like she would've been nine years ago; Kiara's gaze becomes harsher, with a hint of... Regret? Sadness? Now it’s Kyne the one that furrows her brow, confused.

Kiara rubs her temples, breaking eye contact with a heavy sigh. “ _Fuck_ , this isn’t happening.”

“No, shit, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything, Kiki,” Kyne is quick to say, trying not to let her voice tremble. Her heart aches just a little at the imminent rejection that’s about to come, with Kiara vehemently shaking her head. She knew it would happen, but it still stings.

“Kyne, you don’t understand,” Kiara finally says, reaching to take her hands in hers. Her voice quivers, and she doesn’t even try to hide it, the tears welling up in her eyes. “You stupid _bitch_ , I crushed on you since we skipped class the last week of sophomore year and we hid in your stupidly tiny treehouse the entire day,” she confesses through hiccups, barely fighting back the tears.

_Oh._

Everything Kyne knew to be true is suddenly in shambles. She feels her heart tug, a lump forming in her throat, keeping her from saying anything. It's not possible. It can't be true. 

She thinks back to that day in the treehouse. It was stupidly small, that much is true, and they could barely fit together in such a closed space, but they made it work. Kiara braided some flowers into her hair, and Kyne played that dumb song from Shrek 2 on her flute, while Kiara went into a fit of giggles. For the most part it had been nothing out of the ordinary—but Kyne remembers subtle glances, lingering touches, unsaid words hanging in the air, and a faint blush creeping on Kiara's cheeks that she attributed to the heat.

How could anyone be so blind?

She finally pulls herself together, the knowledge that Kiara used to crush on her still not quite sinking in, and meets her gaze. She's blinking back the tears, as is Kyne. Jesus. They were just supposed to watch garbage TV while drunk, not confronting their unresolved feelings.

“Then why did you leave me?”

_There it fucking is._

Kyne's voice sounds hurt, more than she first intended to, but it's not like she can control it. She's always wondered about it, when her mistakes and regrets come to haunt her in the middle of the night—if she was so important to Kiara, why did she break their promise and stopped answering her message? It's never made sense for her, and perhaps it won't make any even after hearing Kiara's explanation. But she needs to know.

Kiara licks her lips, scooting herself closer with a sigh.

“I don't think I ever told you, but my parents were getting a divorce the same year we would start college,” she finally admits, and it's like a huge weight has been lifted off her shoulders. Kyne mutters an _I'm sorry_ , squeezing Kiara's hand for support. She goes on with a heavy sigh. “They tried to convince me to ditch all the plans we had made to move in with my cousins, and when I wouldn't budge, they had to tell me. Those little bitches were trying to get a divorce without me knowing,” Kiara scoffs, resting her head against the cushion of the couch, staring somewhere past Kyne.

“I'm sorry,” Kyne repeats, unsure of what to say in a case like this. She feels guilty for holding a grudge against Kiara for so long, unknowingly of her situation. But then again- “Kiki, you're so dumb. I would've followed you to Montreal if you were honest with me. I would've followed you anywhere.” _I still would,_ she thinks, but it's been too many confessions in just the span of twenty minutes. “I would've been there for you.”

“But your French sucks!” 

“And? I would've learned over the March!”

“But you didn't know what to study up until a month before graduation!”

“I would've- Stop making excuses!” Kyne exclaims exasperated, sounding more pissed off than she really is, and sighs heavily. Kiara is now definitely looking at her with regret, as she realizes that they could've been happy together way too long ago if they were braver. 

There's a suffocating silence hanging all over them, asphyxiating them with all the unsaid words and memories, with the _woulds_ and _what ifs._ They've been stupid. So, so stupid. 

It's Kyne the one that decides to break the cycle of cowardliness, when her voice cuts through the silence. 

“It’s still you,” she says, so low and soft Kiara almost misses it. “I still love you, I probably have never stopped loving you, even when you left me on read on Facebook and never texted me back. Even when I thought I had forgotten you and the sound of your voice. And certainly, I still love you even if you have a family of your own and don't love me back anymore.” The words keep spilling, more than a decade of repressed feelings coming out. And Kiara just sits there, her hand loosely holding Kyne’s as she blankly stares at her.

Kyne is waiting for her to tell her to shut up, that she only wants to be friends now and raise Matt in peace. But that never comes.

Instead, she delicately and wordlessly cups Kyne's face, bringing her closer painfully slowly. Kyne holds her breath when her lips brush against Kiara's, her hot breath heating up her cheeks.

“Let's give this a try, yeah?” Kiara whispers, before she pulls her in for a kiss. 

It's not the first time she's kissed a woman, but this is the first time she feels fireworks go off in her stomach, as she grabs onto Kiara's face for dear life. Her lips are soft, probably the softest lips she'll ever kiss, and all the years she'd gone by kissing other people her suddenly feel worthless in comparison.

At some point they start to cry, but neither lets go, afraid that the other will disappear and it will turn out it was just a dream. There are happy tears, too, between the ones full of sorrow and regret for having wasted so much time. 

They only turn off the TV when the clothes start to disappear and Kiara complains that if they leave it on, her electricity bill won't forget about it. Kyne laughs just as Kiara tackles her into the couch, her kisses becoming sloppier by the second.

***

Monday morning arrives in the blink of an eye, and Priyanka suspects Kyne's up to something when she won't stop smiling, even as she’s sat and going over her classes for the day with a smile in the teachers room, while Lemon is talking about _this super fun idea_ she has to teach the kids about plants and photosynthesis.

Of course, when confronted by Priyanka, Kyne wouldn't say it's because she's now somehow dating her lifetime crush and one of her students' moms. She can find out one day, when it sinks in.

One of her classes of the day is Matt's, and she can't help the smile that blooms on her face every time he raises his hand to ask something, or when she hears him have very interesting conversations with his classmates between the exercises—such as why _he_ has the best mommy, because she buys him the best and the most colorful pens, and always hangs up his drawings on the wall instead of the fridge. Kyne's heart swells more than once, and she makes a mental note to tell Kiara about that when she's on break.

The bell rings, announcing the start of recess, and Kyne packs up her things while the kids leave their stuff sprawled on their desks, running out of the classroom to go play on the patio. 

She's making her way out when Matt approaches her, tugging on the sleeve of her jacket.

“Yes, Matty?” She asks sweetly, kneeling down next to him.

“My mommy said you were friends when she was my age,” he says, going straight to the point, and Kyne laughs shortly, correcting him on the age part. “Does that make you my auntie? My auntie Juice was mommy's friend in college.” His eyes are full of innocent curiosity, and even though Kyne is tempted to say no—because she's not _exactly_ part of his family in that way—she decides to not make things harder than they are.

“Well, do you want me to be your auntie?” She asks instead, and Matt furrows his brows for a second, thinking.

“Yes, that’d be nice,” he decides with a smile. “Mommy said she likes you, so I like you too!” Matt runs off, chasing after his friends, and leaves a flustered Kyne behind.

She doesn't even try to hide the smile when she gets to the teachers room, Priyanka's questioning stare already burning a hole in her neck, and pulls out her phone to text Kiara.

_I think you were right, we would make a nice family._

This time, she's brave enough to hit send.

**Author's Note:**

> comments make me very very happy, so if you wanna make me happy, tell me your thoughts! my tumblr is [dollalpaca](https://dollalpaca.tumblr.com) <3


End file.
